Secrets in the Attic
by MedicLifeline
Summary: Dusty finds some letters linked to his past.


**Disclaimer** - I do not own GI Joe, Devil's Due, Hasbro and Sunbow own them. I am just borrowing them. I am also borrowing the song "Letters from Home" by John Michael Montgomery. I make no profit off this, and it is all for fun please do not sue.

**A Special Note** - This is dedicated to all our presently serving and former military members, here now and those we have lost . Thank you so much, without you this could not be possible. Thank you for you sacrifices and dedication to getting the job done, you are all true hero's to our country. May you and your families be blessed and never forgotten, for your service to keep the American Flag flying. Happy Veteran's Day..

**Author's notes **- I would like to thank Scarlett Phoenix and Storm O for the beta work. I also want to thank those of you I ran the idea by. Thank you so much.

By: Medic (Mediclifeline)

Rating: M ~ for Mature.

**Secrets in the Attic**

Dusty waved as his mother left for her doctor's appointment. Receiving a day's leave from Hawk and Duke eased his mind and hers as well. Earlier in the year, Mrs. Vasquez had fallen while getting the Christmas decorations out and Dusty had told her that if there was a way, he would come home and put them back up in the attic. Until then, the boxes had been placed in the young man's room.

Dusty looked at his watch and knew he would have several hours since his mother was seeing a specialist this time in another town over and several miles away. His mother insisted that Mrs. Vasquez take her and that Ron wait at the housefor his wife, who would be arriving later that day. Dusty sat down on the couch, smiling at the thought of Courtney, his wife of a little over one year. The desert trooper wondered what his father would have thought of the woman he married. He was fairly certain that his father would have accepted her with open arms, especially knowing how happy she made him. Dusty knew that she still had less thanhalf of her shift to complete back at the Motor Pool and would not show up for at least a few more hours.

With a sigh, Dusty looked around the empty house. He stood up and walked to his old room. Opening the door, he saw the boxes neatly stacked on the floor next to his bed. Looking over to his shelf, he saw the pictures of his father as a young man. Dusty was in some of them, standing next to his father. His father was a police officer before he wasdrafted into the Vietnam Conflict. In his wallet, Dusty carried the last picture he received of his father. It went everywhere with him.

Walking over and picking up a picture, he carefully studied it. Shaking his head, he whispered, "I miss you, Dad. I know you have seen the man that I have become, but..." Having put the picture down, he walked over to the bed and picked up two of the boxes. Dusty carried them down the hall, leaning them against the wall. He balanced them with one hand, while reaching for and pulling the chain for the trapdoor to the attic with the other hand. Quickly, he placed both hands back on the box. The stair ladder came down. Dusty climbed up the ladder and entered the attic. Dust was disturbed as he moved about the dark, cramped space. Looking around for a place to put the box, he found where they were stored. He walked over to a small window and set the box down. A smile crossed his face as he saw his first tricycle. He walked over to it and gave it a slight push. The tricycle was still a bright red with a white seat where his fingerprints removed some of the dust. Dusty smiled, thinking that one day their children could play with it.

Backing up, he bumped into a multi-tiered shelf. Dust rolled off a trunk, which sat below the shelf, and rolled around the area in a small cloud, speckling brightly in the sunlight that shown through window. A box fell off the shelf, and as it fell, its flaps opened, allowing the contents to drop onto the attic's floor.

Kneeling, Dusty picked them up and realized that they were letters that were sent to his father when he was serving in Vietnam. They were among his personal belongings when they were returned home. With a shaking hand, he looked at each one of them as so many memories began filling his head. He arranged them in date sequence. Looking at the return address of the first envelop, he saw that it was from his Grandmother Rudat.

_My Dear Son, _

_It is almost June. I hope this letter catches up to you, and finds you well._

_It's been dry, but they're calling for rain. And everything's the same ol' same in Johnsonville._

Your stubborn 'ol Daddy ain't said too much, but, I'm sure you know he sends his love.

_And she goes on,  
In a letter from home_

_  
_Dusty slowly opened the envelope and started to read. His grandmother wrote it from their farm in Johnsonville, Wyoming. She wrote of how dry the weather had been that season, hoping that they would get more rain soon. The animals were doing well.

A smile crossed Dusty's face as childhood memories of going to their farm resurfaced. Besides the desert, grandma and grandpa's farm was his other favorite place. He recalled going there and his grandmother making the best fried chicken and homemade pies. As he continued to read the letter, he recalled how stubborn his grandfather was at times. His grandfather did not say too much, preferring to appear like a strong and stern person, but, Dusty knew that the man had a heart as big as Texas. His weathered and worn appearance from years of farming came to Dusty's mind.

His grandmother went on to say that the corn was doing well for this time of year, even if it was dry that summer. She also wrote that they were calling for rain over the next week. She had told Dusty's father about the new tractor they bought and about how the old one had finally wore out. Dusty laughed when he read where she had written that his grandfather, being so stubborn about replacing the tractor, hitched up a team of horses to use his great grandfather's old plow. Worried about his grandfather's health, his grandmother let him know that it was not a great idea, since it had been years since he had plowed with it. Reluctantly, they bought a new tractor. Dusty could picture the team hooked up as his grandfather did that for their small garden but never for the whole farm. He also could picture his grandmother, standing on their porch, telling him to stop that nonsense, while drying her hands on her apron.

Dusty's grandmother always made sure to watch the news when a report from the war was on, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of him. She prayed nightly that he was not hurt. Each time, she was relieved when she failed to find his name on the killed in action list. His grandmother sent her best to them, letting him know that she hoped they all came home safely and that they were in her prayers. He read the last line of the letter, which said, "_Even if you do not think so Ron, your father sends his love_."

_I hold it up and show my buddies,  
Like we ain't scared and our boots ain't muddy, and they all laugh,  
Like there's something funny bout' the way I talk,  
When I say: "Mama sends her best y'all"  
I fold it up an' put it in my shirt,  
Pick up my gun an' get back to work  
An' it keeps me driving me on,  
Waiting on letters from home_

What Dusty did not know was what his father's reaction was when he received the letter in the mail. Holding the letter up, he said, "Mama, says hello y'all and sends her best wishes." Some of the others yelled backasking, "Where are the cookies?"

The elder Ron laughed at the soldiers around him. They were laughing so that they would not cry. Their fear was apparent, but not a one of them wanted to admit it. His muddy boots were on the ground; they were always muddy here. The red dust was on everything. It always rained, even on the hottest of days. His mother's letter always touched his heart; he just wished to hear a bit more from his father. That letter never arrived but down inside he knew that his father was wishing he would come home to the States soon. Pulling out his pen and paper, Ron Sr. decided to write a letter to his beautiful wife and his son, both of whom he cherished. He pulled a picture of them from the shelf and smiled at them.

Gladys was quite a lady. He would surprise her. He had bought a ring while on R&R to send to her. He hoped she would like it. His hazel eyes scanned the others around him, who were egging him. "Come on Ron! Let's go! You're on, and you promised to go this time!" a soldier yelled, tossing a football to him. Ron placed the pad of paper on his cot and walked out the door of the tent.

_My Dearest Love, its almost dawn  
I've been lying here all night long wondering where you might be  
I saw your Mama and I showed her the ring  
Man on the television said something so I couldn't sleep  
But I'll be all right, I'm just missing you  
An' this is me kissing you  
XX's and OO's,  
In a letter from home_

With interest, Dusty opened the next letter. It was from his mother to his father. He felt funny reading something so personal between the two of them, but, something kept pulling him to read the letter.

**Summer 1974**

Gladys Rudat tossed and turned that night. The summer heat was intense in the small farming town. She and her son were visiting her in-law's farm. Little Ronnie had set up a cot on the screened in porch, hoping to get to sleep under the stars. That was as close as his grandfather would let him this night. The sounds of the night were like music to the young boy's ears. He had been at the farm for the past two days and loved every minute of it.

Gladys tossed again. That night, on the evening news, they had shown several soldiers who were either wounded or killed. This had become a nightly ritual. Gladys always looked for her husband in the footages, but never saw him. She had shown the pretty, little ring to her mother-in-law, who was more like mother to her than an in-law. She felt like one of the Rudat daughters.

Waking up and closing the door, Gladys sat by the small desk at the window and began to write a letter to her husband

**Back to the present time...**

Dusty read his mother's letter with interest, recalling that time they visited the farm. As he sat there reading, taking himself back to when he was ten, all those memories were coming back to him: the sounds, the smell the hay, and the warmth of the summer night. He read about how his mother had told his father about their visit to the farm. How that she was having a wonderful time so far and that she had shown his mother the jade ring he had given her, which she wore on her right hand since she had a plain gold band on her left hand, which she was very proud of. Even to this day, Dusty had never seen her take off either ring.

Reading further, Dusty read about how much his mother missed his father and that she wished he was home, but, she understood that he was doing what he had to do and that she was proud of him. She just wished the letters would arrive more quickly. Dusty's face broke into a smile as he read about her telling his father about little Ronnie helping on the farm and doing a good job. His heart swelled with pride as he read the things his mother had written to his father about him as he was away.

Dusty's face, as quickly as it had become a smile, started to frown. His eyes became misty as his mother described her fears of the possibility seeing his dad on the evening news, fearing injury or death. He also read of how they scanned the lists of the wounded, killed in action, and missing, hoping against hope that his name would never appear on any of the lists. She loved him more and more each day even though he was not home. She signed the letters with X's and O's and sealed it with a kiss as she whispered, "_I Love You_. _Please come back safely to us."_

Dusty wiped his eyes, placing the letter back in the envelope and feeling the love his mother had for his father. He picked up another letter on the small stack.

_I hold it up and show my buddies,  
Like we ain't scared and our boots ain't muddy, and they all laugh,  
'Cause she calls me "Honey", but they take it hard,  
'Cause I don't read the good parts  
I fold it up an' put it in my shirt,  
Pick up my gun an' get back to work  
An' it keeps me driving me on,  
Waiting on letters from home_

**Summer 1974....**

Private Ron Rudat Sr. stood in the small circle of soldiers as the letters and packages were handed out to them. Taking his letter and seeing that it was from his wife, Ron smiled and smelled the envelope. He could detect a hint of her perfume on the back. It was amazing how a letter could travel thousands of miles and still hold a scent.

Walking back to the tent, Ron plopped down on his cot, hanging his muddy boots off to the side. As he opened the letter, some of the guys teased_, "Hey Rudat, what did she say?"_

Ron smiled and then laughed, and read the part of the letter that detailed the time his wife and son spent at the farm. The guys groaned and pleaded for Ron to read more, but Ron informed them that the rest was private. He folded the letter and placed it in his shirt pocket as he heard the sounds of the Hueys, which were coming in to get them for another patrol. Picking up his helmet and M16, he followed the others out the door of the hooch and into the heat of the Vietnam day.

_Dear Son, I know I ain't written,  
But sittin' here tonight, alone in the kitchen, it occurs to me,  
I might not have said, so I'll say it now  
Son, you make me proud_

**Back to the present time...**

Dusty realized that he was holding the last letter in the stack. Turning it over, his eyes widened; it was from his grandfather to his father. This was the only one of these letters that existed. Slowly opening the letter and pulling out the piece of paper, Dusty recognized his grandfather's handwriting. Dusty saw something else; there was blood on the envelope, his father's blood.

Slowly unfolding the paper, his eyes started to scan the words on the page. Reading with great interest, his grandfather told Dusty's father how sorry he was for not writing sooner. He told his son how proud he was of him. He admitted how stubborn he had been for keeping quiet and that he was writing in the still of the night as his mother and family slept. He hoped that the letter would reach him soon and that all was well. In the letter, Dusty's grandfather wrote that since he was a man of few words, it had been difficult for him to write Ron. Towards the end of the letter, he let Ron how much he loved him and that he was very proud of the young man he raised.

Dusty sat there for a moment, recollecting his thoughts on all that he had just read. The emotions felt so real, even if it were eleven years ago. He was now a man of twenty one years, not ten like back then. Dusty carefully placed the letters back in the box. As he did, he looked down and saw the hometown newspaper and telegrams, which listed his father as being killed in action.

_I hold it up and show my buddies,  
Like we ain't scared and our boots ain't muddy, but no one laughs,  
'Cause there ain't nothing funny when a soldier cries  
An' I just wipe me eyes  
I fold it up an' put it in my shirt,  
Pick up my gun an' get back to work  
An' it keeps me driving me on,  
Waiting on letters from home_

**Summer 1974...**

As they sat in the rain, in a small firebase out in the middle of nowhere, a soldier walked over to Private Ron Rudat. He simply stated, "I have a letter for you," and walked away. Ron smiled, thinking that it was from his wife or mother. Turning it over, he was shocked to see his father's handwriting. He hoped nothing was wrong but suddenly feared that something had happened to his mother. Quickly opening the letter under the safely of his poncho, he read by flashlight as he sat on a sandbag. His face suddenly showed signs of relief; however, tears began to stream from his eyes as he read what his father had written. His sobs became apparent as he read about how proud he made his father as both a son and a soldier. A few of his teammates questioned him as to what was wrong. Ron just replied saying that it was a letter from his father and that he is proud of him. A few slapped him on his back; Ron wiped the tears away and placed the letter in his pocket. Hearing that it was time to load up and go, he picked up his M16 and climbed on the transport truck to leave. Placing the letter in his pocket and tapping it, he anxiously awaited on more letters from his loved ones back home.

However, Ron Sr. would not get any more letters from home. Shortly after reading his father's letter to him, Private Ronald Warren Rudat, Sr. was killed in action. The group of soldiers had been on a patrol moving down the road when the transport truck came under attack. Ron Sr. was shot and killed instantly.

**Present Day...**

Dusty sighed as he looked at the letters now in the box, loosing of all track of time. Downstairs, the door opened and Cover Girl peeked in, her husband's vehicle was parked in the driveway. She scanned the small house, not finding the desert trooper anywhere.

"Ron?" Cover Girl softly called down the hallway, wondering if he was napping. Walking in a bit further, she heard nothing. Looking around, she saw that the stair ladder to the attic was down. She slowly started to climb the stair ladder.

Dusty had stood up to placethe box back on the shelf, wiping away his tears. CG peeked her head through the opening in the floor of the attic and saw her husband standing near a shelf, his hand lingering on a box.

"Ron?" she softly called to him, looking in his direction.

Dusty looked over hearing his name. A smile came to his lips as his wife walked toward**s** him. "Hi Hon, I'm sorry I did not hear you up here."

Cover Girl smiled, noticing the dried tear streaks. "Ron, are you alright?' she asked concerned, reaching out to caress his tear stained cheek while embracing her husband.

Dusty nodded, trying to find the words as her arms encircled his waist. Looking down into her eyes, he said, "Yes, I am fine now, Court. I was just doing a little reading about my dad."

Courtney nodded, knowing how special her husband's father was and that he had been killed in Vietnam.

"Do you need anything, or, me to carry anything else up?" Cover Girl asked.

"No, I can get the last box," he said bending over and kissing her full lips. Breaking the kiss, he took her hand and led her back to the stair ladder. Both of them went down and Ron grabbed the last of the boxes, taking them upstairs. Before he left the attic, Dusty went over by the small box that he had placed on the shelf one last time. "Bye Dad," he gently said before climbing back down out of the attic and placing the folding ladder back in place to visit with his wife before his mother and Mrs. Vasquez arrived back from their appointment.


End file.
